The Replacement
by Mindy35
Summary: Jack/Liz. She wanted to be his "One".


Title: The Replacement

Author: Mindy

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Tina's

For: hamnapkin

Prompt: lie to me

Spoilers: nope

Pairing: Jack/Liz, Jack/other

Summary: She wanted to be his "One".

-x-x-x-

She would've preferred he lie.

She wished he'd just lied and told her what she wanted to hear. Actually, what she really wished was to go back a half-hour and not ask what she asked at all. Not ask what she meant to him, what they were doing. Not ask him whether she was the only woman he loved, the only one he thought of, the only one he needed and wanted to be with. Not ask Jack for the truth.

She wanted to be his "One". Not one of many. Although, truthfully, it's not 'the many' she's so concerned about. It's just one, in particular. The One who has always been there, on the outskirts, in his peripheral vision, for years upon years. The One she suspected would always mean more to him than her, no matter how she strived to understand him, no matter how satisfying the sex was between them and no matter how many times Jack insisted that Liz was simply a friend.

Laura knew better. Or at least, suspected. Which is why she finally asked what she did. Months of pretending, along with Jack and Liz, had put her on edge. She couldn't keep it up, not like they could. She couldn't keep pretending that there wasn't that strange little vibe when they were in a room together. That there wasn't almost visible tension when they stood next to each other, without even touching -- for they rarely did. Which only made it more confusing. She was not used to living in such secrecy, such denial. Unlike them. She preferred that everything be out in the open and acknowledged.

The truth was, she'd always had her suspicions. And not just because of the way that Jack spoke about 'Lemon' when she was not around with something akin to awed worship. Not just because of the way his mother dismissed her completely and instead spoke only about Liz Lemon and her many quirks and attributes. Not even because of the way that, when she was introduced to some of their work colleagues, they seemed to speak about Jack and Liz like they were a couple in every other way except the most important one.

There were other warning signs too. Which she naively ignored. The most obvious being that when she met Liz for the first time, it was like looking in a mirror. A slightly rumpled, slightly smaller, slightly older, slightly unbalanced mirror. But the glaring similarity was there nonetheless. Right down to the specs she wore whenever she was writing her column. The same specs she'd been wearing when Jack approached her in her favourite cafe. She'd been working on a column -- about deception in relationships, ironically enough. He'd lied to her then -- telling her he was a fan, that he read her column all the time. He invited himself to sit down, joined her for a coffee and gave her his invaluable input. And by the end of her third coffee, she'd barely touched her computer keys, but she had a date for that Friday night.

The other big signal, amongst all the tiny niggling ones, was that Jack gave her a blouse for Christmas -- a lovely, colorful one, one which was not quite her style, but close enough. Shortly thereafter, she called in to visit him at work and saw Liz exiting his office, wearing one that was nearly identical. And the weird thing was, Jack hadn't bought them the same present. Nor had he asked Liz's help in buying for her -- though he did ask her opinion on practically everything else. Any similarity had been completely unintentional. When she mentioned it to him, he didn't seem to know he'd even done it, why she might be offended or confused, or what it implied about him and his best friend. And her, as his new lover.

To Laura, it seemed fairly obvious what was going on. _And_ what was clearly never going to happen between her and Jack simply because of what had never, ever happened between him and Liz. She couldn't compete with a hypothetical, an unconsummated, untested standard. Something he and Liz probably wanted at their core. Something that, for all she knew, they'd both idealised somewhat in their respective minds. But something that neither of them had been brave enough to actually go for. She'd been hoping her initial impressions of Jack and Liz were wrong, that the more she got to know him, she'd understand their dynamic. That she might even be let in on it. The big secret they alone seemed to share.

More importantly, Laura had hoped – stupidly, she knows now – that as she and Jack spent more time as a couple, they might create something similar. That he might speak about her with awe and worship, he might watch her face as avidly as she noticed him watching Liz Lemon's every fleeting expression. That he might talk over every single problem with her, or that he might seek her out whenever he knew she'd had a difficult day, just to see if she was alright. The time would come when he would know every little detail about her, what wine she liked, how she preferred her meat to be cooked, what her favourite salad dressing or ice cream or comfort food was, what movies she enjoyed, what perfume she wore, which way she voted, and all the tiny, accumulated things that came with sharing a life with someone.

But while she was waiting patiently for Jack to notice all these things, to withdraw this attention from his friend and place it more squarely and lovingly on her, Laura started to fall. Really and truly fall for Jack Donaghy. It happened harder and sooner than she'd expected. Which is why she knew, she had to be honest. She had to ask him, to save herself further, future pain, what, if anything, was really going on between him and Liz. Because until she knew, nothing was going to progress between them.

It did not go well. Realistically, she's not sure what she'd hoped for. What she expected from Jack, the confirmed bachelor and acclaimed uncommunicator. After the fact, her reasoning seems as flawed as her approach. She shouldn't have done it at his work, and on a day he had an important merger to negotiate. Also, as much as she hates to admit it, when the words finally did come out, she came off sounding like a jealous woman. A petty, jealous, confused, in love woman. Perhaps because she was one.

She was a woman in love with a man – or at least halfway there -- who had kept her at a distance from the second they'd met. He had no intention of letting her in. She knew that now. He never had. And never would. Because there was someone already there, filling the place in his heart that she'd been under the impression was vacant. She'd been mistaken though. Either that, or he'd lied. Because Liz was not simply filling that vital position while he waited for his "One" to come along. Perhaps at first, she might've been. But, however she gained entry, she was in there now. And Laura suspected it was for good. Liz was no longer a seat-filler in Jack's affections. In fact, if any one was merely standing in, in the rightful place of someone else, it was her.

Laura sniffs as she wets a wad of toilet paper and wipes away the bled mascara from under her eyes. Her sniff echoes around the empty bathroom, the only sound in the cavernous room until the door creaks open and someone enters. Immediately, she straightens her spine, and tries not to look like she has been crying in the bathroom, like some pathetic pubescent girl, just because her boyfriend likes someone else more than her.

The footsteps behind her stop, then head toward her. "Hey, Laura, how're you?"

Laura flicks her eyes up to see Liz's face in the mirror.

Her brow creases with concern. "You okay?"

"Ah…no," Laura replies shakily: "I've had better mornings, to be honest."

Liz ducks into one of the toilet stalls and then returns to her with a handful of paper balled up in her hand. "Here."

"Thanks," she replies, attempting a smile as she accepts the bundle and blows her nose.

"Did Jack say something to you?" Liz asks, peering at her reflection in consternation. "That idiot. He used to have me running to the bathroom in tears, like, once a week, when I first met him. You've gotta just ignore him, Laura. He makes an art out of saying stupid stuff, but he doesn't mean half of it."

"We broke up," she says, swiping at her reddened nose with toilet paper: "Just now, we…broke it off."

"Wow," Liz sighs: "Really?"

"Yeah. Really."

"But…" Liz leans her hip against the sink, facing her: "I thought you really liked Jack."

She nods, involuntary tears welling in her eyes: "I did."

"And I know he liked you," Liz adds quietly: "Are you sure you can't…?"

Laura looks up, looks her straight in the eye: "What?"

Liz shrugs: "Work it out, somehow?"

"I doubt it," she answers, looking away: "I dropped the dreaded C-word on him."

"Ooo. Commitment?" Liz recoils, wincing slightly: "Jack and…that word do not go well together."

"I figured," she mumbles: "By the look on his face."

"Hey, listen, I've seen that look on Jack," Liz says, her tone trying to be buoyant: "He scares pretty easy when it comes to commitment. But he also bounces back pretty easy. He'll forget all this and be calling you and wooing you back before the week is out. Believe me, I've seen it happen before."

Laura nods, dropping her eyes away from her own frazzled reflection and the reflection of the woman so much like her. "I do believe you. You know Jack better than anyone."

Liz says nothing.

Laura looks up, sniffs once then turns to face Liz, mirroring her position against the basin. "But it's over. I know it. I can't…I couldn't be with him now -- not knowing what I know."

"Look. I don't wanna pry into…your whole situation," Liz says carefully: "and usually, I like to stay as far out of Jack's lovelife as--"

"Liz," she cuts her off. She takes a deep breath, lets out a faint, sad laugh: "You _are_ Jack's lovelife."

Liz says nothing, again. She looks vaguely confused, slightly embarrassed. Her lips part, but even she seems to know that none of her denials will work this time. Not only are they superfluous, they're an insult to her intelligence. Because she's been a part of their little inner circle – as much as anyone is allowed to be. And she's seen exactly how misleading their little routine of denial is.

"It's okay," Laura goes on: "You don't have to say anything." She bites her lip, tasting the salt from her previous tears: "The truth is…I never stood a chance." She pauses for a long moment, her eyes steady on hers. "Did I?" she finishes eventually. When Liz doesn't respond, she takes another shaky breath, turns to the mirror and pulls her mascara out of her purse.

Liz watches as she reapplies a fresh coat to her red-rimmed eyes. She speaks finally, in a voice that's quiet and hesitant: "It's not what you think, Laura."

"It's exactly what I think, Liz," she replies evenly. She slots the brush back into the tube, then drops the mascara back into her purse and turns back to her doppelganger. "It's exactly what the two of you think it is, too. In the moments you're brave enough to think it."

"I'm…really sorry," is all Liz says.

Which is fine. Laura isn't looking for an admission. Any confirmation she needed, she got from Jack, just minutes before. He was the one she was in a relationship with. Not any more though. Perhaps if he'd lied they could've gone on pretending. That what they had was something, rather than an illusion of it. And that who he wanted was her, when they both knew she was nothing but an insufficient replacement for what he so deeply desires.

Jack didn't lie though. He looked her straight in the eye and told the truth. Because apparently, that was what he thought she deserved. Laura turns, heading to the door without another word. And as she does his words echo in her ears. She recalls the look on his face when she'd asked him what she asked him. The niggling question that had been on her mind, on the tip of her tongue for months -- ever since she'd shook hands with his best friend. She wanted to know. And now she did -- despite part of her still wishing she didn't, still wishing he'd lied to her. Part of her wished to go back and change it. Part of her wished Jack hadn't simply looked her in the eye with such heartbreaking clarity and admitted to her in an affection-roughened voice:

"I'm absolutely crazy about that woman."

Because once the words were out of his mouth, it was over.

"I'm absolutely crazy about that woman."

She could no longer pretend that he was talking about her.

"I'm absolutely crazy about that woman."

She could no longer lie to herself, tell herself that Jack was crazy about her. When clearly, he wasn't.

She reaches the door, glances back at Liz. She hasn't moved. Her expression still seems stuck between two thoughts, two differing emotions. But she's sure that will pass. At the very least, she has a friend she can talk it over with. She's sure Jack's office is the first place Liz will head as soon as she is gone. Then she and Jack can simply return to their status quo, as though she never even disturbed it.

In fact, she's fairly certain, she never really did.

She pulls open the door, gives Liz a small wave -- which she mirrors, with a rueful smile. Then silently and with little regret, Laura walks away.

_END._


End file.
